[Paddlewise] The Suburban Frontiersman

Here are some numbers from the last two days of kayaking:

1 - La Crosse ball found in a foot of water. Added it to my  
collection. Now I have 2.
2 - hours spent on Tuesday paddling through and photographing the now  
open lillies.
4 - hours spent on Monday paddling to a golf course waterway,  
collecting balls along the banks. 45 minutes to get there and then 45  
minutes back again.
6 - times a red wing blackbird thumped my stern while chasing me out  
of 'his' territory.
12 - tennis balls found floating by the dog park. Threw them back to  
the dogs. Owners much appreciative. Make note: dogs slacking on their  
job.
16 - half grown ducklings following one stressed out mother.
20 - minutes spent drying out my gear after a failed entry. No one  
saw it happen. Maybe it didn't.
106 - golf balls collected in 2 hours while kayaking through the  
waterway that splits Wayne's Golf Course.
1 zillion - lillies in bloom. Took many photographs.



I push away from shore, adjust my spray skirt and pull the craft away  
from the bonds of my existance. A magnet must be pulling me back. At  
first my strokes are slow as my craft seems to be acclimating itself  
to the watery environment. A wild bird watches the strange man fish  
craft warily.

My right stroke and my left stroke at first are the same but with a  
slight breeze, a current, or the decision to change course I soon  
must make corrections. To the person watching from the beach it must  
look like the paddler puts one stroke in front of the other in an  
uninterrupted wheel of motion, propelling the long slender craft  
forward in an effortless manner. But to the paddler, every stroke is  
different. A hard right, a less than enthusiastic left. A lean, an  
opposite sweep. Reach further forward and pull all the way back on  
one side then abbreviate on the opposite. All of this gets poured  
into a short fast cadence or a long slower one.

It becomes hypnotic and zen like. Life becomes incredibly simple. I  
can only do two things: paddle or glide. I love the glide but I must  
paddle in order to glide. Therefore I love to paddle.

I glide into the shallows where I spot a golf ball in about 8 inches  
of water. I paddle my craft sideways into place with expert  
technique. I feel like I'm part of this watery envionment. I belong  
here just like the fish and the plants and the water fowl that belong  
here. I feel their rhythms and bring my own sympathetic vibrations  
and thereby fit in. I reach into the water and grab my hard white  
spherical quarry and slowly move on.

I paddle these waters almost every week. I wonder if those are the  
same ducklings I saw last week. My how they grow fast. Good luck to  
you in your new life.

Like all of the other citizens of the waterways I keep my silence and  
break it when need be. I paddle quietly so as not to bring unwanted  
attention to myself. Then I paddle quickly and my sudden rapid  
splashy noises sends a signal to the community that I am moving on.  
But no matter how respectful I am to the other citizens we all know I  
am still just a temporary visitor. Evenually I must go back to shore.  
I'm sunburned and my butt is tired.

I slide gently into a soft sandy spot at the boat launch. In ten  
minutes I am driving through what seems like another dimension.  
Sometimes it seems almost unreal, although I have to admit that it's  
not totally uncomfortable.

http://picasaweb.google.com/kayakster/Lillies

------------------------
Paul Montgomery
paul_at_paddleandoar.com
http://paddleandoar.com
------------------------
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